THE ROAD TO SCOTLAND
The caravan moved at a brisk pace. Even Merlin’s carriage had kept up without a fuss. Arthur assumed that the items tucked away in the back were not as heavy as they appeared.
Allison seemed like a nice girl. From watching her sitting on the seat at the reins with the wizard, you’d have thought she’d never ridden with horses before. Why anyone would want to sit up on the bench and not in the back carriage was beyond Arthur, but she truly seemed to love it and the king couldn’t help but smile at her giddiness.
Arthur adjusted in his saddle, suddenly wishing he’d not gone with the lace panties. Something softer would have made for an easier ride, especially when they were galloping.
At least the weather had calmed a bit. The mid-afternoon heat had been replaced with a mildness that was pleasing. A nice cool breeze picked up as the sun was making its descent toward the horizon. Unfortunately, there was the smell of rain in the air. He glanced up at the sky and saw dark clouds off in the distance. From his experience, they still had a couple of hours before that became a worry, but he wanted to be smartly tucked into an inn before the first drops hit.
He slowed his pace until he was trotting alongside of Merlin’s carriage. If anyone knew how far out they were, it would be the wizard.
“We’ve been traveling for a few hours now,” Arthur said, “what does your intuition tell you regarding our progress?”
“My intuition?” Merlin replied quizzically. “Oh, right. Uh, well, let’s see.” He stuck his finger in his mouth and then held it up in the air for a few moments. Then he looked both left and right and then pushed himself up slightly and glanced toward their rear. “I’d say were roughly a few hours away from Camelot.”
“Good, good,” said Arthur with a satisfied nod. “Well, that’s progress, then.”
“Beats spinning our wheels,” Merlin replied.
Arthur looked down at the spinning wheels on the carriage. He shrugged. “Are we tracking toward the proper location in Scotland?”
“Should be,” said Merlin. “I mean, we’ll likely have to make some course corrections once we get to the border, but for now it’s looking good.”
The king tapped the sides of his horse with his boots and sped back up to rejoin the knights. He didn’t want to have a long conversation with Merlin about, well, anything, and he was certain that the wizard felt the same way.
“What did the wizard say?” asked Lance-A-Lot.
“We’re going the right direction,” Arthur replied while adjusting himself slightly.
“Everything okay?”
“Huh? Oh, yes, Lance-A-Lot, I’m fine. Just a case of saddle-seat, I guess.”
“Ah.”
“Of course we’re going in the right direction,” Galahad said. “Don’t need a wizard to tell us that. Just look at that big sign right there.”
Galahad was pointing at a large wooden sign that sat on the side of the road. It stood a good twenty feet high and had large text that read, “This way to Scotland.” Directly under that was a smaller sign that read “Pick up some Buzzard’s Ale today!”
“Hmmm,” said Arthur while peering back at Merlin, who was whistling, “I wonder if he saw that.”
“Probably,” Lance-A-Lot answered. “Makes you wonder if he really knows where this magical talisman is.”
“Doubt it,” Galahad said. “Probably just wanted to get his tail out of that cave of his for a spell.”
“A spell?”
“Not that kind, Lance-A-Lot. I meant that he wanted to get away for a while.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Arthur said. “He’s rather a homebody, after all.”
“Well,” Lance-A-Lot said doubtfully, “I hope his skills come to play as we approach the border.”
“Got bigger problems than that,” Galahad said in a monotone voice as they turned through a clearing of trees.
Up ahead Arthur saw two men wearing black outfits and masks. They were sitting on the back of angry-looking horses and they had their swords at the ready.
“Highwaymen?”
“Yes, sire,” said Lance-A-Lot.
“But there are only two of them.”
“There’ll be more in the woods,” Galahad stated while looking up into the hills. “Archers, likely.”
“I shall rally the other knights, sire.”
“I’ll tell Merlin to stay back,” Arthur said as he dropped back again to the carriage. Once he was again in-line with the wizard, he said, “Merlin, we have trouble up ahead. It would be best if you and Miss Allison stopped here and took cover inside of the coach.”
“Nothing doing,” said Merlin. “I came out here to film this adventure and that’s precisely what I’m going to do.”
“I’m sorry, Merlin, but I must insist.”
“You do realize I’m a wizard, right?”
“Of course, but—”
“And you know that means that I can turn you all into a bunch of blathering chickens with a snap of my fingers, yes?”
“It was on your resume when you interviewed for the job,” Arthur recalled.
“So why are you worried for my safety, then?” Merlin asked. “If anything, I should be worried for yours.”
Merlin snapped the reins and sped up near the front before pulling the carriage to a stop on the side of the path. Arthur found the entire ordeal irritating, but the fact was that the wizard could handle himself just fine. Still, if anything did happen to the man, even if just by chance, that would be a blow to Camelot.
As Arthur stepped down from his horse, he noted that Merlin was pulling out a few boxes and setting things up. Allison was at his side helping.
“What’s he doing?” asked Lance-A-Lot.
“He’s ‘filming it’,” answered Arthur. “Whatever that means.”
One of the highwaymen called out, “Ready your arrows, men.”
Arthur looked up into the hills, trying to spot movement. They were obviously well concealed.
The knights had drawn their swords and were walking toward the two highwaymen when the bellowing voice of Merlin froze them all in their tracks.
“You there, knights and brigands alike, I command you to hold!”
Both sides looked questioningly at the wizard.
“You,” Merlin pointed at Sir Gareth, “you’re pointless in fighting, right?”
“Well—”
“Grab me the tripod.”
“You mean Sir Lance-A-Lot?”
“Hmmm? Oh, no,” Merlin pointed across the grass, “I mean that stand over there by my carriage. It’s to help hold the camera still.”
Merlin walked briskly up to the space between the two parties with Allison on his heel. He started setting his items in place while everyone waited in disbelief.
“What in blazes are you doing, man?” Sir Gaheris asked with a grumble. “Can’t you see we’re about to engage in fisticuffs?”
“As part of my agreement with King Arthur,” Merlin said as he continued his work, “I am filming everything that I deem holds merit, and that includes the skirmish that’s about to unfold.”
“Excuse me,” said the dark-haired highwayman, “did you just say King Arthur?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re saying that we’re robbing the king?”
Merlin looked up and then motioned back toward Arthur. “Did you not see the oversized plume on his helmet?”
“Well, of course,” answered the man, “but I thought it was some kind of carnival thing.”
“How dare you?” said Arthur with a start. “I’ll have you flayed alive for that.”
“Look,” said the highwayman as he put his sword back in its scabbard, “I think we’re just going to go. Sorry if we put the scare in you or anything. Just trying to make a living, is all.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Merlin said.
“Except to hades,” agreed Sir Gaheris.
The highwayman frowned at the knight for a moment. “That’s a little
dramatic, isn’t it?” he said. Sir Gaheris did not reply, so the highwayman turned his attention back toward Merlin. “Who are you supposed to be, anyway?”
“I’m Merlin.”
“Merlin the Wizard?” the highwayman said with a choke.
“Honestly?” said Arthur with his hands in the air. “Why do people keep having to clarify that? Of course he’s the wizard. I mean, seriously, how many people in this world are named Merlin? Nobody is. It’s an odd name.”
“That was intentional,” stated Merlin.
“I would hope so.”
The highwayman turned to his partner in crime and said, “I thought you said you’d scouted this bunch out.”
“It was dark,” the smaller fellow said.
“It was only an hour ago,” exclaimed the main highwayman. “The sun ain’t even down now.”
“Right, but I had forgotten to take me mask off during the scouting. I’d just heard voices.”
After a few moments of staring in disbelief at his comrade, the main thief turned toward Arthur and the knights and said, “It appears that we have a misunderstanding here, gents.”
“What’s there to misunderstand?” Sir Gaheris replied, gripping the hilt of his sword with both hands. “You’re a bunch of scum-sucking leeches who need to be shown the blade. Seems pretty clear to me.”
“Ouch,” said the smaller highwayman. “That hurts, you know.”
“Ouch, indeed,” agreed his partner. “It’s not like we want to be doing this for a living. I’d rather be working an honorable job. But the economy ain’t what it used to be. Gotta figure out some way to feed our children.”
Sir Gaheris lowered his blade and softened slightly. “The economy is bad?”
“Ever since the brick hut market crashed last year,” explained Sir Galahad, “the shilling lost a lot of its value.” Everyone was looking at him. “What? There was a big writeup about it in CFM…Castle Finance Magazine.”
“I didn’t know about that,” Sir Gaheris said apologetically. “I’m sorry for what I said.”
“Don’t fret over it,” the highwayman said with a wave of his hand. “If I were being truthful, I’d say we’ve been called worse, and rightfully so. It’s just such a challenge to make an honest living in this day and age.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Arthur chimed in snootily. “Maybe you would be happier living in some other kingdom.”
“Been honestly thinking about, m’lord. Pretty much every other country is in a better state of affairs at current. For example, did you know that Scotland has a private healthcare system?”
“So I’ve heard,” answered Arthur with a sigh.
“Okay,” Merlin stated, “I’m done. That means we’re done talking.” He moved to sit in a chair that said “Director” on it. “Now, here’s how it’s going to work. I’m going to call out ‘action’ and everyone is going to start kicking each other’s asses. Got it?”
“What’s he talking about?” the highwayman asked Arthur
“It’s best to just do as he says. He is a wizard, after all.”
“Right.”
“Annnd….action!”
The knights and the brigands began running after each other, trying desperately to kick each other in the rump. Arthur found the scene completely pointless, thinking that it would have been far more interesting to have watched an actual fight.
“Cut, cut, cut!” Merlin got up and looked them all over.”What the hell are you all doing?”
“Doing the old ‘boot in the britches’,” Purcivale said between ragged breaths. “Just like you said, guv.”
“Yeah, tappin’ the tail with the toe,” Tristan agreed.
“I didn’t mean it literally, you morons,” Merlin said. “I meant that you have to fight. Really get into it.”
“But we’re no match for the Knights of the Round Table,” the highwayman said.
“And they’re no match for me,” Merlin countered. “Get it?”
“Got it.”
“Good.” Merlin returned from his chair. “To your point, though, two of you won’t do against the skills of these men. Call down the rest of your flock from the hills.”
“The what? Oh, I see what you mean. That’s just a ruse. There’s nobody in the hills. We just say that because it makes people surrender more easily.”
“Clever,” said Merlin with a nod of his head. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to zoom in on you two and somehow make it look like you’ve got a group of men. I’ll handle that in editing.”
“Zoom into me?”
“Don’t bother asking,” Arthur said to the highwayman, “the explanations are often more confusing than the questions.”
“Hey,” Merlin said after a second, “I have an idea. Gareth, since you stink with the blade anyway, why don’t you take your helmet off, turn your shirt inside out, and pretend to be one of the highwaymen?”
“Uh, but—”
“Do it, man,” Merlin commanded. “The light is waning.”
“I don’t want to be a brigand,” Sir Gareth complained.
“Would you prefer to be a toad?”
Sir Gareth removed his helmet and set about flipping his shirt inside out. A few moments later he was standing next to the highwaymen, looking almost as if he actually belonged with them.
“Now, I want everyone to do their best in this scene,” Merlin said. “Make it count because we only have a few minutes of decent light left. Annnd…action!”
Swords were flashing about. The men were leaping and rolling all over the place. Sir Gareth was mostly running away from Sir Tristan and Sir Purcivale. The main highwayman was putting up a decent effort against Sir Gaheris, which was not an easy thing to do. The smaller highwayman was staving off hit after hit from Sir Lance-A-Lot. All in all, they were faring pretty well, which Arthur knew was only because his knights were going easy on them.
“Okay, okay,” Merlin said after a time. “Cut. I’ve got enough here to piece something together, no thanks to you Sir Gareth. Poor excuse for a knight.” He mumbled a few choice words that Arthur could not make out. “Besides, I wouldn’t want anyone to get mortally wounded during filming.”
“Unless it adds to the dramatic prose, of course,” noted Allison.
“Well, yeah, then it’s okay.”
“Are we finished here?” asked Arthur.
“For now,” Merlin replied, stuffing items back into the box he’d brought with him. “It’s a lot of work, but I’m confident it will be worth it. Next time I’ll need to employ some helpers. Carrying everything around on my own is simply too taxing.”
Arthur climbed back on to his horse and said, “We should find a place to stay for the evening. Those clouds are growing ever closer and I’d rather not get soaked.”
“After turning these criminals over to the local magistrate, of course,” said Sir Gaheris.
“Most certainly.”
“Hey now,” said the main highwayman, “that’s not fair. We never actually got anything from you all, and we even played along with your wizard’s game of fighting.”
“I’ve even got a cut on me thumb from it, I do,” said his comrade. “And a bloody nose, at that.”
“Yeah, look at his poor face.”
“I daresay it’s an improvement over how it looked before.”
“That’s a downright awful thing to say to a fella,” the smaller highwayman said with the look that he was about to well up.
“Man can’t rightly help his genetics,” agreed the main highwayman. “And to think that we’re supposed to look up to you types. We may be criminals, but at least we’re not mean.”
“I’d expect such talk from riffraff like us, but not from a Knight of the Round Table.”
“Well said, my ugly friend,” the larger highwayman said while patting his friend’s shoulder, “well said.”
Sir Gaheris seemed at a loss for words. Arthur did find the dig a little too pronounced. He’d had a few discussions with Sir Gaheri
s over the years regarding his gruffness. Yet one more thing to put on his annual review to talk about.
“Don’t feel bad,” Sir Gareth said, moving toward the highwaymen, “he treats everyone that way. And I know how you both feel, too. I was once down on my luck, struggling to make ends meet. I ended up as a knight out of pure luck. I was singing a song at a pub one evening, a tune about war and bravery, when suddenly a group of these fellows”—he pointed at the knights—“dragged me out and stuck a sword in my hand and a helmet on my head. They said I was one of them.” He looked down at the sword. “I don’t even know how to use it all that well. I just know that the pointy end is supposed to end up in the other guy.”
“So you’re a bard?” asked the main brigand.
“And a cook, yes.”
“Haven’t heard me a good tavern song in years,” said the smaller highwayman. “Most of our bards is working in the same field as us these days. They don’t feel much like singing.”
“Let me ask you men something,” Arthur said, pulling his horse close to them, “what would it take to get you to stop your thieving ways?”
“A steady job, I suppose. Or maybe winning the lottery.”
“Lottery?” said Arthur.
“Oh, right. Sorry, sire, another Scotland thing.”
The smaller highwayman looked up at Arthur. “I don’t need riches, m’lord. I just want something that puts food on the table for me wife and kids.”
“You have a wife and kids?” said Sir Gaheris.
“Sir Gaheris,” Arthur admonished, “stay your tongue.”
“Well, look at him.”
“Indeed,” Arthur said, motioning for Gaheris to vacate the immediate area. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes, jobs. Sir Lance-A-Lot, is there truly no work available for honest folk in my land?”
“I, uh, I’m really not sure, sire. That’s not my area of expertise.”
“The economy stinks,” Sir Galahad offered. “Farmers have been tugged around by their short hairs for the last few seasons because of that new tax you put into law regarding grains. That and the aforementioned brick hut market crash, of course.”
“But my advisers told me that the tax was a wise thing to enact.”
Comedic Arthurian Bundle: The Adventures of Queen Arthur Page 5